


Pick Up the Pieces

by xtremeroswellian



Category: Jericho (US 2006)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Depression, Gen, Insomnia, PTSD, Spoilers for Oversight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtremeroswellian/pseuds/xtremeroswellian
Summary: She hadn’t slept in days.
Relationships: Mimi Clark & Bonnie Richmond, Mimi Clark/Stanley Richmond
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Pick Up the Pieces

She hadn’t slept in days. Her guilt ate at her the way termites gnawed on a foundation of a house--destroying it a little at a time from the inside out.

She wanted to be angry that they’d had the funeral without her, but she knew Stanley needed it to be over and done with (who was she kidding? It would never be over and done with).

These things never were.

Not really.

There was a laundry list of things Mimi Clark wished she could change. Things from her past that she regretted.

But taking a job with Jennings and Rall would be the thing she’d go to her grave regretting most.

It cost her the sister she never had that she never knew she’d always wanted.

Stanley didn’t blame her. He never would. It wouldn’t even occur to him to blame her. He just wasn’t that kind of man. He was too good, too pure.

He was quieter now. Less joking. His blue eyes weren’t as bright. He still looked at her like she was the answer to a long-pondered question, but it was her reflection in the mirror that she hated most of all and she didn’t understand why he didn’t hate it, too.

Weeks passed as slow as years, the previous lightness in the house now replaced by a suffocating sense of doom.

Neither of them used the front door anymore. Neither of them went into the living room--not since it had turned into a tomb. Stanley wanted to bulldoze the house and rebuild. He’d mentioned it on more than one occasion as they lay in bed in the darkness.

She always fell silent then, tightening her arms around him a little and trying to swallow the lump that formed in her throat.

It wasn’t what she would’ve wanted--of that Mimi was certain. She was pretty sure he knew it, too, because every morning all talk of destruction faded away with the night as they set to work in the fields, fed the livestock, fixed dinner together.

Then they would go out once more--at sunset--to say their goodnights to the young woman whose life had been cut far too short by a violence that had never even been about her in the first place.

That night, like many others, Mimi did not sleep. She stared in the bathroom mirror at her reflection until she could no longer stand the sight.

Without warning she slammed her fist into the glass, watching it shatter and rain down upon the floor like a million crystallized tears, splashes of crimson tainting the glittering shards.

“That was dumb.”

She turned at the sound of the familiar voice.

No one was there.

Mimi smiled faintly and closed her eyes. “Yeah. I know.” Drawing in a breath, she wrapped her hand in a bandage and went to bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

She would pick up the pieces in the morning.


End file.
